TITLE: Shadow Dancing
Crossover with Person of Interest
SERIES: Firewall
Prior stories in this stories:
1. High Voltage
2. Live Wire
3. Sometimes the Words are Hidden
4. Seasonal Currents
5. Redeemed
6. Not All the Facts
7. Under Pressure
8. Circuit Breaker
9. That Which Is Home
10. Lunatic
11. Mostly Business As Usual
12. Phoenix Rising
13. All the Way from the Dark
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WARNINGS: heavy spoilers for the POI season two finale (episodes 21 and 22 both!). Some quotes are directly taken from the those episodes. Some scenes have been altered to fit my 'verse, others have been rearranged to comply to the Firewall plotline.
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Signal Corrupted
Major Errors Encountered
Feed Analysis Suspended
Threat Detection Suspended
Data Corruption: 86,914 %
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It had been a slow day and it promised to be a slow week. Q had used the time to catch up on a lot of projects, test a few programs and generally do his job. Because of the particularly uneventful work days, he wasn't running up his overtime. He was doing his usual nine to five job and went home to his private projects.
Like writing down everything he had discovered and was still discovering about the phoenix, the psychic link it shared with him, and the changes in his and Bond's abilities. By now the file had truly grown into more than a reading assignment paper for school. It was detailed, had chapters, foot notes, references, and it was locked and secure against whoever would try and get in. The laptop had no outside links, no wifi, no USB port, nothing. Only a technopath could get in, only Q could type on the keyboard.
He also looked forward to his email exchange with Harold Finch. If they didn't write, they talked. The cipher was quite invested in the research Q was doing and he kept looking for anything on the phoenix and the bond it had formed with its counter-balance that he could find.
James Bond was currently not on any official assignment. After the recent events, the violent death and resurrection – one that had been completely unlike any before – Bond had been on a select few, short missions. They had been M's way to head off the impending doom an evaluation would have meant. It had been Q's idea, actually. Bond in a training facility was…
He almost smiled at that.
It would have been a disaster about to happen. Chaos and disaster for certain.
M had listened, had nodded, and two days later Bond had been put on so-called light duty. He would do a few milk runs, protect and serve, so to speak, and they would see how that went.
And his first assignment had been the retrieval of a member of the British embassy in Bratislava, Slovakia. The man was a talented software engineer who had stumbled upon rather sensitive data, which he had promptly tried to sell on the open market.
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"How bloody stupid can one man be?"
Q smiled, a tiny quirk of his lips as his fingers flew over the keyboard, tracking their target.
"Plenty," he replied, eyes searching the screens around him.
Q had called up a dozen security feeds and was even keeping a satellite ready should he need it.
"He's running," Bond grunted. "Running makes him a target."
"You can lecture him when you get him, 007."
No if. There was no doubt in Q's mind that his agent would get the man. Howard Ferguson wasn't a spy or a trained agent. He was an everyday guy who had seen quick money and had forgotten about the sharks in the pool he was currently treading water in. You didn't just download sensitive information from the British government and run into the next bar to make a deal with anyone currently having a drink or two.
Ferguson was a bloody amateur in every sense of the word.
"He has taken a cab," Q informed his agent. "They are heading in the general direction of the airport."
He could almost imagine Bond's eye-roll.
The whole thing ended more or less unspectacularly, at least for James Bond. There had been two small incidents, both of which had ended with bruises and broken bones for the thugs who had tried their luck. Ferguson surrendered, pleading with Bond to save him, almost in tears.
"That was easy," the agent remarked when he was back from dropping off his package back at the embassy. "Almost like a holiday."
"Only you would count knives and guns and car chases through a foreign city as relaxing, Bond."
"You forgot close combat with Slovakian blackmarket dealers."
"Ah, how could I," Q sighed, closing down feeds and disengaging from the satellite. "Enjoy the rest of your day," he added.
"No new orders?"
"Not yet. You have twenty-four hours. Make the most of them."
It got him a throaty chuckle. "Your wish is my command, quartermaster. I'll see what sights this city has to offer. Too bad you aren't around to enjoy them with me."
"Try not to run up a bill that is clearly personal and has nothing to do with your work," Q replied, voice cool and even.
"It's never personal unless we do it together."
Q debated whether to delete the conversation from the logs and replace it with something more professional, then decided against it.
Around him, Q branch was working as diligently as always. The technopath went over his To-Do list for the rest of the day and found a lot of mind-numbing reviews, which had him grimace.
Oh well.
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Almost exactly twenty-four hours after the Bratislava job, new orders came in: the delivery of a stolen hard drive from Armenia to England. It was a joint venture, placing 007 with 009, the agent he had nearly threatened because Q had been his handler for the time 007 had been down for the count.
It had been nothing personal and Bond liked the guy, knew he was a superb Double-Oh operative, and it had been all instinctual reaction to someone claiming his handler. Looking back at it now, it had been childish, unfounded, and clearly a short-circuit reaction.
Thankfully 009 had no idea what had really happened, only that Bond had been a bit erratic after a very close call and nearly dying.
Double-Ohs understood the stress of the job and all of them knew there was a rather tight relationship between one of the most dangerous of their trade and their quartermaster.
"I'll try to get him back to England in one piece for once," 009 joked, amusement clear in his voice as he and Q exchanged information on the best way to get out of Armenia.
"That would be appreciated, 009," Q replied calmly. "Medical has debated issuing bonus cards."
"Bond would be about the only one to get a freebie within a month."
"Most likely."
Bond had listened to the chatter, the banter, the easy conversations between his handler and another agent and there had been no flares of jealousy.
They made it back home without an incident.
Q had simply shaken his head at the bill his agent had run up throughout the journey home. 009 had wisely shut up, but the smirk had been a given. Q didn't need to see it to know it was there.
Double-Ohs were all the same.
"Necessary expenses," his Double-Oh had told him easily.
"Of course," had been the haughty reply. "A hideously bloody and large Argentinean steak, a bottle of the most expensive wine that ever had the pleasure of being bottled in this country, and a tip for the waiter that doubled the bill."
"She provided good service."
"I bet," Q had muttered to himself, just loud enough for Bond to hear it.
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After that it had been accompanying a political figure to a conference in Italy and making sure the man and his family came back alive. Bond had a little bit of a thrill there since the man truly did have a target painted on his back.
Q had listened in on the fight, to the clipped orders, and he had smoothly provided the information required for Bond to make it out alive. It had been child's play for him, and James had sounded alive, happy and energetic after narrowly escaping a knife-wielding mad man.
Go figure.
Q had to smile at the memory. It was good to know the phoenix wasn't feeling caged by the easy missions. It was even better to hear the joy his partner got out of it all. He had been born for this; it was his preternatural side. The blood and the violence and the thrill of the kill, it was all the phoenix, and it was still under control and only struck when it was the only option left.
Yes, he was proud of his agent. And he was proud of James.
Bond was back. He handled himself, he handled the missions, and even joint ventures with other agents that required Q were no problem. There had been no incident with 009.
Q himself knew he was under scrutiny as well, but he didn't let that mar his performance.
He did pass each time with flying colors.
Which made the slow week even less fun because there was no challenge.
Then again, he had had a lot of challenge before that in shape and form of a jealous preternatural who was reacting unfavorably to anyone coming even close to his partner.
Yes, that one hadn't been fun at all.
The mission that had ignited that whole downward spiral had had a violent end and it had launched a new set of problems Q had had to deal with: James Bond reacting overly emotional, and not in a good way. Possessive jealousy and the promise of violence and gore to everyone who so much as looked at Q wrong was not a preferred workplace behavior.
Well, he had handled it.
He always did.
And M had needed to know just why and how and because of what.
Q had told him, which had led to the light missions, and by now he was sure they had proven themselves. Tanner had dropped by a few times, telling him they were doing okay, and those Double-Ohs that had been in London for a debrief or some other obscure reason, had been migrating toward Q branch as well.
"I have no idea how you do it, Q," 003 had once remarked, shaking his head. "Bond's a nightmare to handle, but you're still around."
His last mission before he had been sent to South Africa, from which he had just returned, had been with Bond. Q had handled them, his usual efficient self, and things had gone smoothly.
"Of course I am still around," Q had replied levelly. "I am the quartermaster."
"He'd drive me nuts."
Q had looked at the other man, eyebrows slightly raised.
"No idea how he makes it back each time. He's reckless, he disregards his personal safety, and he's the best goddamn asset in this whole branch."
And the oldest. Still better than all the others, still the most successful, still the only one who had made it out of the abyss and pass all tests with flying colors.
None of them knew Bond was a phoenix and if it was in Q's powers, no one but M and Tanner would ever know that this particular agent was a preternatural with the ability to resurrect.
003 had simply shrugged, grabbed his things, and had been gone again.
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The last mission before M would declare Bond fit for the field was actually rather catastrophic.
Mostly because Tanner had told the quartermaster that this was their joint mission, that Q would be there, on site, right in the middle of it, but not to worry since it was easy.
Famous last words.
Q didn't do field work. Q had refused field work.
M's orders had overridden that.
He had fumed and grabbed his bag, heading for the airport in a very bad mood. Not even the fact that Bond joined him when he stepped on his connecting flight eased the foreboding and the anger.
They were flying first class and the plane wasn't even fully booked. It was nice. Posh and comfy and… nice, Q had to confess. Bond might be used to such a lavish travel style, but he had always used the tube in the city or economy when he truly couldn't get around flying. Otherwise it were car or train rides.
He said a silent prayer when they were finally on the ground and out of the terminal. The limo waiting for them was a nice touch and he leaned back, enjoying the ride while Bond was alert and watchful.
Since their cover was rich business man – Bond – and Asset Manager – Q – they had rooms in one of the most exclusive hotels.
As not otherwise predicted, the whole thing soon ran to a grinding halt, then went south. There were guns and shots fired and a lot of running, grabbing whatever they could get, and then trying to make it out alive.
It wasn't really their fault. There had been wrong information. If Q had been allowed to stay where he was the most useful, had had the quiet, professional surroundings of MI6's underground bunker, he would have stumbled upon that fact sooner.
Well, he hadn't.
And here they were. One shot-up agent and one very bruised handler.
"The extraction team is on the way," he told the Double-Oh, voice calmer and more level than he actually felt.
"Good job."
Q lifted a corner of his mouth. He had been skimming along satellite connections up until the moment his head hadn't been able to take it and he had talked to M until the head of MI6 had told him to log off and take care of 007. The headache was there. It pounded away behind his eyes, but it would have been a migraine, knocking him out for days, if not for his anchor.
Bond's eyes flicked to the camera and Q smirked.
"Loop," he murmured softly, curling long, graceful fingers around his agent's wrist. "They have no idea. And there are no microphones. The system is surveillance of patients only, not prisoners."
Not that they were such. Q had only made sure that their closer relationship wasn't discovered.
Bond's expression was predatory and calm. Q simply raised an eyebrow.
Ow, and that still hurt his brain.
"Behave," he said in his handler voice. "Let the nice doctors treat you. We'll be back home as soon as we can be airlifted."
"How's the fear of flying?"
He snorted. "That's what you think about? Well, it's bloody well still there! And I'm not afraid to fly and you know it! Getting shot at and having your partner nearly blown up doesn't change that, 007. I'd rather not step on a plane, but I won't swim home either."
"You're doing fine, Q."
"Pep talk? From you? Now?"
Bond smirked. "Good drugs."
"Apparently better than Medical's."
The preternatural pulled him closer. "Much better." The blue eyes were sliding shut again.
Q watched him with a faint smile. When his agent was finally asleep again he let go of the strong wrist and accessed the surveillance system, easily manipulating it to show the real image inside the room once more. An image that had Q sitting with his partner and waiting for the British government to get them home.
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They got home not much later and Bond was sent on a week-long, enforced recovery after Medical had given him a once-over.
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That was also the time Kincade had called. The groundskeeper of Skyfall was still taking care of the place that had belonged to Bond's parents and still belonged to the Double-Oh. The hunting lodge had burned to the ground, had never been rebuilt. The land was worth quite a bit, but James had refused to sell.
It was part of his past.
A past he had now accepted and dealt with.
Q had been to Skyfall and he had seen the beauty and the suffering.
James had made his peace with his past and he had made his peace with the future to come. The restless, driven core of him, deep down in his soul, the part that was the primordial being called a phoenix, was still there, was still driven, but the restlessness was gone. And the drive behind his actions was different now.
He was different.
And still so very much the same.
Q hadn't changed the man. He had tamed the darkness, the nightmarish thing he had been born as, and it had freed Bond in a way nothing else ever had. It had unleashed him, had given him more than the connection to Q had taken. And Q would never think of their psychic bond as anything even close to a collar. It was stability and balance and necessity. It was what had brought back Bond so often before, what had given Q a safety net and an anchor in turn, and it was symbiotic.
He smiled slightly.
Not that anyone, an outsider, might see it as such. There were few people who knew the depth of what he had with his Double-Oh, and they were poorly fitted to understand the true meaning.
They might see Q holding Bond back. Holding him down. Reigning him in.
They might see Bond dominating the poor geek from Q branch. Pushing him to conform to what Bond wanted and needed.
They were so totally wrong. Utterly and completely wrong.
Yes, Q had a certain amount of control. Yes, he could pull back the phoenix and not get burned. He could face the nightmarish thing and not fall apart into a quivering, whimpering wreck.
And yes, Bond could come across as dominating and powerful, but he would never be able to control Q. The technopath was stronger than his appearance might suggest. He wasn't simply a tech geek. He was the head of Q branch. He was a handler; Bond's sole handler. And he was a technopath.
Q pulled his thoughts away from those contemplations, trying not to let them skirt too close to what had happened mere months before.
Three months, thirteen days, to be precise.
Kazakhstan would forever be burned into his mind as the day things had truly gone FUBAR for a while, when he had lost Bond, had lost the phoenix, and had gotten him back in the same breath. When their connection had become more than just what anchored them, what gave them safety and stability. It had become life in death. It had become a rescue line beyond anything any book might ever speculate on when it came to such a rare and undocumented preternatural as the phoenix was.
Q had felt him die and he had felt him return. Bond had told him that Q had been his guide without knowing it. He had saved him.
And the phoenix had regenerated out of the proverbial ashes.
The technopath resolutely pushed the memories away and concentrated on his current project.
He was going over the blueprints of a new weapons design one of his minions had sent him. It looked promising and if it didn't blow up in anyone's face in the test phase, he would okay it for a first trial outside these walls.
He was distracted by a soft beep that announced an incoming call over a frequency only Bond would use. Q requested a verification code and smiled when he got it.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bond," he said pleasantly while opening a new window, just in case he needed it to assist his agent.
Simply because James wasn't on an official mission, was actually on enforced leave, didn't mean he hadn't stumbled into something. He knew his partner; he knew the man was a trouble magnet and got involved in matters that didn't concern him out of habit
"Q," the agent in question replied.
"How is Scotland?"
"Cold."
It was the end of March and a low was pushing arctic air across the island. There were mutterings about snow and many people were worried about the impact on their lifestock. Q had studied the weather patterns and had to agree that it looked like a snow front coming in.
"I assume this isn't a social call. What can I do for you?"
It got him a low chuckle. "I presume you're at MI6?"
"Yes. I know you're still in Scotland, so the time zones haven't shifted."
Another chuckle. "I might need you to check on something for me."
"Officially or under the radar?" Q asked easily.
"Could become one or the other."
He frowned. "And right now?"
"More of a private request."
"You are aware that you are using official lines for that, 007?"
"Very."
The technopath sighed and typed in a few commands, transferring the call to another frequency and logging himself into it with ease.
::We're secure now:: he said, directly using his mind instead of his vocal cords.
Bond got the meaning right away. "You know why I'm here."
::Of course I do::
As his handler and his partner, he did, of course. Kincade had mentioned a private matter, one connected to Skyfall. Bond hadn't really gotten more, but he had gone.
"Kincade gave me a little run-down of my family history and my neighbors."
Q almost laughed. Neighbors? The Skyfall property was huge and the next lodge was quite a distance off. Not to mention the next little town.
"It seems my father and his father and his father before him had always been on good terms with an old Scottish family clan, the Macivraes. They are old blood. Really old." Bond sounded almost impressed. "As old as the land itself."
Q's brows shot up. ::Really:: he muttered, brain already firing up. ::Any relations to your family?::
"No direct blood lines, no. And let's just say I'm glad because that might have come up even worse than a phoenix."
::What's worse than a phoenix?:: Q asked curiously.
"Anything that looks like a horror movie monster."
Huh. Interesting.
::And your interest in this? Or is it Kincade's?::
"Kincade has known of them for all his life, as has his family. And no, he isn't a preternatural or a supernatural either. He also doesn't know about me."
Good, Q decided. Despite all that had happened back then, despite Kincade's invaluable help, he didn't really have to be privy to a lot of things.
Like the real job of James Bond.
Like his true nature.
The preter- and supernatural was nothing to be hidden, but some shapes, forms and abilities inspired not a lot of confidence or trust. Especially those that were as primal as the phoenix.
"He asked for me to allow them to use Skyfall."
::Why?:: Q asked, curious. He was already running a search for the clan, the name, anything connected to them. ::Anything valuable on your property, 007?::
"Freedom," was the soft reply.
Q blinked, fingers stilling for half a second. ::Pardon?::
Information appeared on Q's screen and he ran a practiced eye over it.
"Look up nuckelavee and let me know what you find. I'm about to join Ewan Macivrae for a pint," his agent said lightly.
And then he was gone.
Q was mystified until he looked up the nuckelavee.
"Oh," he muttered.
He immediately locked down his station and grabbed his mug, heading for what was officially his office-slash-cupboard-in-the-wall.
tbc...